


Afterglow

by Artistic_Boo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After S3, Alpha Derek, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bad Writing, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek is all over the place, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, No sense of fixed time line, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scott is a Good Friend, Sex Magic, Slow Build, Squishy human Stiles, The Author Regrets Everything, Triggering things, messed up characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-06-20 02:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artistic_Boo/pseuds/Artistic_Boo
Summary: The one who remembers, surfers the most.





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> After season 3 then goes AU.
> 
> Please read tags.
> 
> The characters don't belong to me.

 

• Stiles •

After the spell broke everything became eerily quiet. The trees stopped rustling, instead they loomed ominously like starving demons. Stiles flinched at the sudden screech of a night owl. With the sound of it's fluttering wings, the illusory calm that had settled over the atmosphere shattered into the darkness.

Stiles eyes felt gritty, weighted with heavy rocks.

His chest felt heavy too, where Derek's weight was pressing down, lying unconscious.

Stiles looked to his left through slitted eyes. The world was still blurry but he could see the still burning body of their tormentor lying not even 10 ft. away. The heat of the fire was making his inside cold.

With numb hands Stiles tried to push Derek's unmoving body away from him but Derek stayed there; on top of him half naked, dick hanging out from the opening of his jeans touching the skin of Stiles's inner thigh. Cum and sweat and blood all mixed together in a sticky bitter goo.

Stiles shoved him violently and Derek landed beside him with a flop. A sharp pain ripped through his lower region when he tried to sit up, so he stayed on the ground.

 

Stiles rubbed his eyes, they came away wet. He tried to surmise their current predicament but his brain wasn't working correctly. A panic attack was threatening to break free. Stiles pushed it down forcefully. Lying on the ground wasn't gonna solve anything, wasn't going to make anything better so he gingerly sat up. Wincing at every pull and pain.

He can't let his mind wander, he had to think logically, make a plan or else Stiles was certain he's gonna lose his mind.

His worn out blue jeans were coiled around his ankles like metal chains. Derek hadn't taken them off entirely. He's still wearing his T-shirt; a bit torn up in places; Derek hadn't taken that off either.

Stiles hands trembled as he dragged his jeans up and covered his tattered dignity.

The cold wind was slowly picking up but Stiles couldn't feel the cold air on his skin.

Phantom fingers were still ghosting over his body; touching him, holding him down, penetrating his inside. His red hoody lay crumbled on the filthy ground. Fallen leaves and dead twigs snapped harshly under his weight as he crawled towards it.

He hastily put it on because he couldn't stand to look at the finger shaped marks on his wrist any longer.

Stiles fleetingly wondered if anyone would come looking for them.

His dad was on shift tonight and Scott was with Isaac. Maybe nobody even knew that he was missing. Stiles didn't know about Derek but he was supposed to be at home, reading for the upcoming Chemistry test.

Little snatches of memory danced messily in front of his eyes, but before he could catch them, they slithered away. Stiles can't remember how he got here in the first place. 

All he can remember what happened after that. Vividly.

 

Stiles eyes landed on Derek. A cold shiver ran through him, his mind stuttered. And for the first time it seemed his mind was drawing a complete blank.

 

• Derek •

The first thing Derek came to was the smell of burning flesh then the feeling of burning pain crawling through his entire body. His dick felt sore.

The smell was familiar; fire melting skins and bones until there's nothing left of the body.

He still remembered that smell from when he was sitting beside Laura in the backseat of a police car in the aftermath of his stupidity. The fresh smell of his burnt out family still tingling his nose. Again when he buried the body of his only leftover family member underneath his brunt out house.

Derek had eventually come to associate the smell with acute dread and the bearer of all bad things.

 

The moon seemed to shine extra bright tonight. Derek can feel the blue of his eyes slowly bleeding back into normal hazel. His head pounded and chest throbbed in a bizarre harmony.

Stiles looked like a statue, white and passive underneath the blue moon.

Derek may not be the smartest person in the world. Hell, not even in Beacon Hills. And sometimes he couldn't even grasp the simplest of concepts. But he was not stupid.

He slowly and methodically took all the details surrounding them. He never saw Stiles this still before. So quiet.

And the horrifying picture that his brain was trying to paint, was making him feel like he killed his family all over again.

A wounded noise was coming from somewhere. And Derek was not surprised that he was making that sound. 

A bone suddenly snapped in the blazing magical fire and Stiles eyes snapped at his face but it was short lived. Stiles's gaze flinched away like he's been electrocuted.

Derek looked down at the ground. Guilt and shame churning heavily in his stomach. He opened his mouth but instead of words a pathetic whine came out.

"Don't say anything." Stiles snapped at him and Derek gripped the ground so hard that one of his claws broke.

Derek swallowed trice. His throat felt chafed dry. He can physically feel the raw wave emotions coming from Stiles.

"Call someone."

"Call who?" Stiles hiccuped.

"Anyone. Someone..." Derek pleaded. Anyone can be better than him to know what to do in this kind of situation.

"And tell … tell them what exactly?" Stiles monotonous voice reached his ear. Derek risked a glance up. Stiles is staring at the far distance, the ever present fire in his amber eyes dimmed and dulled.

"You should go to the hospital. Call you dad. Tell him what happened. Tell him …. tell him what I did..." Derek's voice broke like a pubescent at the last word.

"And what did you do?"

"Stiles …"

"No! No. Shut up! This time …. this time you'll listen to me Hale! I will not call my dad. You will not involve anyone else. We will forget about anything happened tonight and never … ever speak of it ever again. Understood.. Because ...because I refused to be humiliated and…and pitied!" Stiles rounded at him angrily.

Wobbling and wincing and damn determine not to show any hurt Stiles stood up. Derek gagged at the fresh smell of blood and semen.

"Do you hear me? Do you understand?"

"I understand." Derek really didn't understand the reasoning but Stiles was beyond reason. And hurt. Derek didn't want to hurt him anymore.

"I did this to you."

Derek wanted to get up and scream but Stiles startled violently at his slightest movement and tried to back away. So Derek lowered his head stayed at the ground, unmoving.

"Yes you did." Derek flinched at the truth. "But it was not your fault." Stiles finished, tone accusing and consoling at the same time.

 --

Stiles stood with his back against a tree when Derek took care of the body. They trekked out of the woods. Stiles following him at a measured pace few feet away.

Derek found his car parked on the dirt road haphazardly, doors still open on the driver's side. Stiles silently slipped in the back seat wincing slightly when he sat down. Derek helplessly watched for a moment then got in.

Stiles seemed calm now. Eerily calm and Derek didn't want to spook him. Only the slight noise of car engine could be heard.

The night fell silent again as he stopped in front of the Sheriff's house. Derek wished the Sheriff was at home and figure out what he did to his only son and then shoot at him so that he can feel less guilty.

Derek heard Stiles took a shaky breath and got out. He sat in the car and watched as Stiles retrieved something … a spare key from a predictably placed stone. Stiles got inside after the fifth try. Derek can see his hands shaking from here.

His heart lurched in fear when Stiles left the front door wide open seemingly unconscious of his surrounding. Derek hastily got out of the car and followed Stiles silently, not too close not too far.

 

• Stiles •

The digital numbers of Stiles's alarm clock blinked 2.12 am in small red LED lights in his dark room.

Red like his hoody, red like Derek's eyes staring down at him with raw hunger when Stiles struggled beneath him. Pleading and begging to ' _Stop … Derek …please …stop…please….'_

"You should go. I don't want you here." Stiles whispered harshly. He knew Derek can hear him perfectly.

He listened carefully as Derek stepped away from just outside his room where he had followed Stiles from a distance like a silent shadow. To make sure that Stiles was safely back at home. Stiles scoffed bitterly and this time Derek even used the door to escort him.

Stiles heard front door clicked shut and the Camaro's engine fading away from the road with Derek. He released a ragged breathe he hadn't realized he's holding.

Everything felt surreal. His body felt foreign and mind disconnected. Like he was having an outer body experience. The room seemed to zoom in & out before him. Taking oxygen seemed like a chore and the lack of oxygen making him dizzy.

Stiles vehemently wished that he could just simply pass out right now. Because he could deal with a lot of supernatural and deadly things but he couldn't deal with this right now. If ever.

He didn't pass out though or fainted or collapsed in a hysterical heap on the floor. Stiles swayed on his feet and stood in the middle of his room as he'd been standing since Derek left.

 

Stiles eyed the time. It's 3.30 in the morning. His bed looked inviting. Lying down and sleeping like the dead seemed like a good plan but the filthy clothes and dirt itched against his skin.

Stiles slowly trudged towards the bathroom, every careful step was a painful reminder.

The house was quiet tonight. Too quiet.

His dad would be home in the morning from station. Unaware and ignorant that anything had gone amiss in this house. That his only son had gone missing for a few hours. Abducted from his very room.

Stiles turned on the bathroom switch and flinched against the sharpness of the light. He wanted his dad right now, to make him feel better, to make him feel safe and protected but the thought of picking up the phone and calling his dad sent fear through his veins.

Stiles avoided looking at the mirror. He didn't want further proof of what was done to his body. His body was proof enough when it throbbed with every movement.

 

The first spray of cold water hit his back sharply. The prospect of an emotional break down in the shower stall peacefully and letting it all out never came; in stead Stiles panted through his mouth unevenly and stared and stared at the red tinted water as it swirled below his feet into the drain.

 

• Derek •

There was a man staring back at him; scruffy, disheveled. Snarling at him angrily from the mirror with sharp fangs. Derek fist connected with the mirror and the image broke. He couldn't recognize this version of himself.

Derek had always considered being a werewolf was a gift. He always took pride in his lycan abilities. But tonight … tonight he felt like a monster that Kate, the Argents and every other hunter had ever accused him of.

Even Stiles once thought of him as some kind of monster. The murderer of his own sister. Maybe Stiles was right. 

' _He's always right_.' A voice whispered treacherously. And Stiles was correct in accusing him a murderer because tonight he had proved Stiles right.

He had killed the boy's innocence with his keenly forged depraved lust. He was weak and pathetic. A disgrace to his Alpha position as Peter graciously pointed it out at every turn. Couldn't even control his instinct, his wolf.

Stiles wanted him to forget everything but how can he forget if he didn't remember anything in the first place. His head hurts and a blank canvas came in the forefront of his mind when he tried to recall what happened. 

All he can remember was taking his car out for a night stroll. But the feeling of wrong doing was poking at his conscience. 

Sometimes Derek wished that if he hadn't been born a werewolf then may be he could stop hurting the people around him. Because that's the only thing seemed like he's good at.

He was lucky once. Happy and blessed with a big family and unconditional love. Then he became greedy. Peter tempted him with false hope and pretty words and Derek had fallen right into it. The promise of forever with Paige had taken her life. Then the thirst of to be with Kate had taken his whole family. He had failed Laura when Derek let her come back here alone knowing the danger of a rogue Alpha. He had failed his betas.

He had failed everyone even himself.

 

The pungent smell of vomit filled the air. Derek looked up at his reflection in the broken mirror. Cracked and beaten. And finally admitted that he had failed as a person too.

 

• Stiles •

The sky seemed to agree with his mood this morning. Dark with heavy clouds. Thunder rolled around rattling his window frame. Stiles watched despondently as big droplets of rain hit the glass of his window.

Watching the rain was way better than looking for cracks in the ceiling, Stiles thought. He went back to watching the grey ceiling.

He felt exhausted, the tiredness had seeped into his bones long ago. His limbs were heavy, trying to drown him in his soft mattress. But his eyes refused to close no matter how hard he tried. Stiles had listened as his dad's cruiser pulled in the driveway at 5 am. The sounds of his dad getting ready for bed. That was 3 hours ago.

The soft fingers of sleep was teasing him so sweetly but the unknown fear of bleak nightmare was keeping him awake and alert. His heart was playing a weird beat, sometimes too fast and sometimes too slow.

Just yesterday he had so many things planned for today. But today those plans seemed scattered and meaningless.

Stiles startled at the knock on his door.

"No school today?" His dad frowned at him from the doorway. Taking in Stiles's pasty complexion and panda eyes.

"Don't feel good."

School? Stiles was so busy not letting any thoughts seep into his brain that the thought of school had entirety slipped his mind.

The mere idea of going to school with so many bodies moving all around him, touching him intentionally or accidentally made him hyperventilate. Breath hitching minutely Stiles gripped his blanket.

"Okay, kiddo. I'll call the school. Do you need anything?" He must look really sick cause his father agreed with him without any fuss. Stiles stayed mute.

"You don't look too good son. Let me get you some medication." The sheriff came near Stiles's bed and put a hand over his forehead. Stiles jerked his head away dislodging his dad's warm concern from his clammy skin.

"No. I'm fine. A little bit under the weather I think, but I'll be … fine ... "

… ' _Liar. You know what happens to liars, little spark? When they finally tell the truth no one believes them.'_ A phantom voice hissed against his ear. Stiles mumbled and hid his face under the blanket in shame for lying to his father yet again. But he supposed he's not technically lying about him not feeling good.

Stiles felt like grinded pepper. Physically sore and mentally wounded. Though his body disagreed with just being mentally wounded when that place in his neck throbbed dolefully with his every heartbeat where Derek had bitten him in a mockery of passion. Not too deep to turn him into an werewolf but deep enough. And his ass was protesting it's displeasure with the slightest movement.

"Okay. Tell me if you need something. I'll be downstairs." His father's worried voice floated above him. Stiles just nodded his head. The Sheriff glanced back at his strangely quiet son a few times and left the door partially open as he made his way downstairs.

Stiles distractedly registered the sound of his dad puttering around in the kitchen. He peeked through his blanket and went back to watching thick droplets of water sliding down his window. His eyelids were drooping slowly. Stiles hadn't known before that counting rain drops could be so calming.

__ 

Stiles eyes snapped open. He sat up panting; heart hammering wildly in his chest he took in his surroundings with wide eyes and panicked breaths. The familiar view of his room helped him calm down a little. The nightmare's prickly touch was still brushing softly against his consciousness. He must've dozed of somehow.

Someone had left pain killers and a glass of orange juice on his bedside table. He ignored it and got out of bed. Pain shot through his hip and below. Stiles unsteadily wobbled on his legs and gritted his teeth furiously. He glared at his hands which was gripping the headboard for balance. Then walked gingerly towards his bathroom tortoise like cause his bladder didn't care about the rest of his body.

Running with werewolves all this time had taught him how to hide blood strained clothes from his father so he had hidden last night's dirty clothes in the waste basket wrapped in some black plastic.

Stiles had planned to throw them in the trash as soon as possible. Didn't have the heart to wash them. Couldn't look at the reminders. His T-shirt was ruined anyway, all torn up.

Stiles took some calming breaths and looked straight ahead while he did his business. He was also feeling very proud of his talent to disinfect his cuts and clean his ass thoroughly through shock and adrenaline. Though the adrenaline had swiftly and quite efficiently wore off with Derek's first thrust ...

Stiles shivered and rubbed at his left wrist. The heavy rain had left the atmosphere almost chilly. It's a good thing he's wearing a turtleneck. The sound of pitter patter was still coming from outside. He flushed the toilet then slowly ventured to his half open door. His dad didn't seem to be at home.

The sky was still overcast so Stiles's didn't realise the time. His ears perked up for any kind of noise then he abruptly locked the door. He had already drawn lines with mountain ash below his window last night and the thought of an open door was making him dismayed. He was alone and there was no one here to protect him but himself.

Stiles sighed wearily and made his way to the bed. His dad must've left for his shift already.

He laid down above the blanket on his stomach facing the window; stiff and uncomfortable and searched for the rain.

 

• Derek •

Cold water poured over him from above and all around. His clothes were heavy with water dragging them down. Eyelashes sticking together and breath coming in puffs.

Derek watched the flowing water washed the ground of impurities. He blinked through the haziness of the rain and saw trees and leaves. Everything seemed normal. There wasn't even a little trace that anything had gone down in this place last night. He had hoped that if he came here again, traced his memory back then he would at least remember something.

But nothing. When he pressed too hard his head pounded with a splitting headache and the sensation of ants crawling over filled his body. Derek couldn't seem to unlock the blind spot in his memory vault.

His wolf was really quiet now; shrunken and small. Like it felt on a base level that it did something horrible. Like Derek knew he did something horrible.

He wanted to dig the burnt body out from the wet ground; wanted to rip the witch's throat again and again, just like he had ripped the backseat of his car when he saw the blood where Stiles'd been sitting; just like he wanted to claw his dick for scarring the boy in the most horrific way possible.

Derek gritted his teeth. Fists clenching and unclenching to his sides.

Rain was hitting him like pins and needles. Derek was standing in the rain for so long that he had somewhat become numb to it.

He wanted to beg Stiles for forgiveness; grovel at his feet. Apologize for every single shitty thing he ever said or done to Stiles. And he knew the list was quite long.

Stiles's pale face and dead eyes flashed before his eyes like a horror movie. He hadn't seen the boy so quiet and still before. The thought that he was the one responsible for that silliness was haunting him relentlessly every minute. And now the thought of facing Stiles scared him a lot.

He had paced in his empty loft all night; sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He had made indents in evey furniture. But he couldn't shake off the restlessness.

Derek had burnt his tongue intentionally on scalding coffee. It healed though, before he could feel any pain. The intense urge to run through the forest had settled over him in the morning. So he took off bare footed. The idea of staying in his loft any longer had made him feel claustrophobic.

His feet had taken him here. The scene of his crimes washed away in oblivion, already forgotten; only alive in the memory of one Stiles Stillinski. Derek didn't know if Stiles remembered anything or too was under same spell like him that stopped him from remembering.

A twig snapped under his feet when he turned around. The picture of his ruined family home on his mind. Cold wind catching against his bare arms.

Derek didn't know what was better; wasn't sure if he really wanted the answer. He made his way to the Hale house; feet dragging through the mud.

He just hoped desperately that someday Stiles will find it in his heart to forgive him. Even he couldn't forgive himself.

 

*-*


	2. Fuel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, who read this story before I have split the 1st chapter in half cause I was finding it difficult to keep track what I wrote in that long one. So don't read the 2nd one if you read before. The 3rd one is new though.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos. :)

 

• Stiles •

Stiles blinked owlishly; his eyes adjusting in his darkened room. He was cold; curled into small ball on his side.

Darkness has descended outside and inside his room. Exhaustion had finally won over and Stiles was surprised by the deep slumber without any nightmare nagging at him.

His stomach rumbled pathetically. Stiles groaned and buried his face in his pillow taking in the scent of his shampoo and drool still lingering on the pillowcase. His stomach gave another sharp pang.

Stiles made his way outside his room zombie like. Eyes on every corner and turning on every light in the house. The thought of being alone filled him with dread and this made him uneasy. He never had any problem staying home alone. Stiles hesitated at the foot of the stairs. He eyed the landline.

Stiles clutched the receiver and bit his lips; fingers softly tracing over the digits, not yet dialing. He wanted to call Scott and wanted to beg him for a bro night but the idea of putting his normal facade and a fake smile was so very tiring. Being alone sucked but being with company sucked even more. So Stiles dropped the idea

He dragged his feet to the kitchen. There's a note on the refrigerator from his dad telling him to eat something. Stiles took out the leftover lunch and a bottle of water.

 

Every bite tasted like ash in his mouth. Cold and tasteless; Stiles hadn't bothered to reheat the food. He gobbled it down quickly, coughing when some of the food caught in his windpipe. He grabbed the water and drank in huge gulps to keep the food down.

But the food wasn't kept down.

Nausea settled over him as soon as the food and too much water settled heavily in his stomach. Stiles covered his mouth and took big calming breaths before he can spill vomit in the kitchen floor. The bathroom seemed so far away. Stiles emptied his stomach's content in the kitchen sink. Mouth bitter and mood sour. Thankful that no one was home to witness his further disgrace.

 

Later that night Stiles laid very still; curled under his blanket and pretended to be asleep when his dad came to check on him. He had almost screamed when his door lock rattled when his dad came in. And tried very hard not to jolt when his dad had put a hand on his forehead to check for any fever. Stiles knew he didn't have any; a lifetime of fever was much more welcome than this thing that he's not thinking about.

His dad left after a while, again leaving the door partially open. Stiles hadn't locked it before; just closed it. The thought of the open door irked him all night but Stiles didn't move to close it. He felt somewhat relaxed knowing he's not alone anymore.

The rain had long since stopped and it's too dark to see the ceiling. Licking his dry lips Stiles counted sheep.

___

For three days Stiles had ignored the constant beeping of message tone from his cell phone. Stiles had covered his ears tightly when his phone started ringing instead. He had refused any offer of foods from his dad. Couldn't muster the stomach to eat anything. His dad even tried to bribe him with curly fries and pizza and greasy burgers but the mention of food now made him queasy. Water seemed like his only companion now.

For three days Stiles had missed school. He had laid in his bed constantly without moving except for the bathroom. Refused to go anywhere or do anything. He was desperately trying to recover.

The wound on his neck was still red and the cuts and scratches in his body was barely healing. Sitting down was still making him wince every time even if his ass wasn't leaking blood anymore. Stiles thinks it's the combination of werewolf and magic that making it so damn hard to heal.

His dad was starting to get really worried. Stiles can tell by the overly worried looks thrown his way. In stead of getting better he's getting worse. But he couldn't even manage to gather the energy to reassure his dad, all his remaining energy was getting spent at keeping his mind blank.

If he pretended to be sick any longer his dad may insist on seeing a doctor. Which was the last thing Stiles wanted. Some stranger poking at him and figuring all out and blabbering it to his dad. Stiles wasn't ready to give his dad that kind of grief yet.

Stiles had avoided looking at the mirror since … since that incident but he's pretty sure he ain't glowing like an angel much less like a decent human being. Keep lying in his soft bed all day all night seemed like an excellent plan.

But he can't do that anymore.

So Stiles sucked it up and got ready for school. Movement a little jerky and sluggish. He had a bunch of messages and missed calls from his friends already which he ignored. He had to make up some solid excuse before Scott can start hounding him for information. Stiles just hoped that his lies went unnoticed by his best friend this time.

_____

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

His heartbeat was getting louder and louder.

Stiles panicked at the thought that he might be having a heart attack. He clutched at the steering wheel; knuckles going bloodless. He tried to do some calming exercise. Counted to ten backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.

Anxiety filled him like acrid air at the sight of a group of students making their way towards his jeep. He panted in relief when the group made their way to the school. Stiles cursed his paranoia. Students had started to fill out and he was sitting in the school parking lot, who knows how long, gathering the teeny tiny strength to just get out of the car.

"Hey."

Stiles shrieked in fright; his neck got an whiplash by the speed he turned his head at the source of the voice. He crowded against the door as far as possible from the passenger side door.

"Stiles. What?" Scott's curly head peeked at him timidly.

Stiles choked on spit and pawed at his chest.

"Dude! What's wrong?!

"N,nggh.." Stiles shook his head in denial when Scott hurried to his side. He gripped the door handle trying to keep Scott from coming near him. His vision was swimming, colors fading and greys taking over around the edges.

He was going to burst open if anyone came near him right now, even it was his best friend from childhood.

Stiles hands were slipping on the handle. Sweats gathering inside his palm, grip becoming loose. And he can't seem to take a single ounce of air inside. The Jeep's door was yanked opened. Stiles tried to crawl over the seat, away from the intruder but he was caught around his shoulder. He thrashed weakly, someone caught his face forcing his tightly clenched jaw open. Then something was pressed against his mouth.

Stiles coughed, hit at his chest a few times then awkwardly straighten up. He blinked quickly and the world came into focus. Eyes going huge with trepidation when he saw Scott standing there. One hand outstretched towards him and one hand fisted around his inhaler.

"What just happened Stiles? What the hell was that? Did you have an asthma attack right now?!!" Scott shouted helplessly. Eyes round with panic and voice freaked out.

"Why are you yelling? And no. I did not have an asthma attack … a panic attack … I think?" He croaked out. "You just came out of nowhere. You startled me and I … I panicked. Badly." Stiles explained lamely. Some people had gathered close to see the commotion, Scott glared at them and they cleared out.

"I saw you come in so I thought we'll go together. I was waiting for you on the stairs for like twenty minutes. But you were sitting in here since you parked so I came here to check what's taking you so long." Scott was looking at him with concern.

"Oh."

"And I waved at you and made noises when I came here. You know I am not exactly stealthy. Didn't you notice me? I even called your name." Stiles listened wearily as Scott babbled, talking quickly.

"Oh." Stiles thumped his head on the seat and fleetingly glanced at Scott who was shuffling nervously. "I didn't notice. Might've been a little distracted. Why didn't you come sooner?" He grimly smiled at Scott.

"Allison? I was hoping to catch her, you know. Are you sure you are okay dude? You don't look good." Scott came closer as if to touch him again and a small whimper sub consciously left Stiles's mouth. Scott backed away and made a placating gesture. Stiles knew he was freaking out Scott with his choppy behavior but he can't help it. He felt like the whole world was out to get him.

"I'm fine. Let's go." Stiles grabbed his bag and hastily got out, almost closed the car door on his hands and headed towards the school. He can't keep sitting in the parking lot all day. Time to face the world.

"Wait. Stiles." Scott jogged behind him but Stiles quickened his pace.

 

The bell had rang already so the hallway was deserted and Stiles was very thankful for the small mercy. He didn't know what would happen if hundreds of student were milling about. Another freak out most likely. It was easy to evade Scott. He ducked inside AP History. Also thankful that he didn't had to deal with Scott's questioning gaze for two hours.

He was thankful for very little things now, like tomorrow being the start of weekend. If he can manage school today somehow he will have the whole weekend to himself. He will rest and come Monday? He will be as good as before. The same ole goofy spastic Stiles.

The class had started already, Stiles kept his head down and made his way to the far back. He can do this. He can pretend to be his normal self for one fucking day.

He rolled his eyes, annoyed at his overreaction in the parking lot to be fair. If he didn't know better (he did knew better) Stiles would say, he was acting like someone who'd just been ra … Stiles swallowed thickly and listened to the flat drawl of the Professor in a trance.

 

In the morning when Stiles thought about stepping outside the house, his knees had almost gave out. His heart had thudded painfully. He had made his way to his Jeep then changed his mind and came inside the house again. This had gone on for almost four times before Stiles decided to just fuck it and stay in bed. But changed his mind again.

His dad had suddenly came for a file and caught Stiles hiding quietly behind the front door. And he was so busy at keeping his breathing even that Stiles didn't noticed when his dad almost collided with him. Stiles bolted then; avoiding any kind of awkward conversation.

So here he was now. Both hands tightly gripping the desk with the effort of not to scream at the boy sitting in the fourth row jiggling his leg or at the girl two seats left from him who kept glancing at him or… or Danny in front of him, clicking his pen tick. tick. tick. tick.

The sound was grating like rusty pipes in his ear. But he couldn't scream at Danny. Danny was so good and nice. Not like … not like Derek. Stiles wildly looked around the classroom; at the open door, afraid that Derek may materialize suddenly in here. It's not like anyone can stop Derek from coming here. What if he found Stiles …

Stiles tugged his hair harshly, a few strands coming loose. Thin tremors was running down his body. His long sleeve shirt was sticking at his back with sweat. It's too hot but he can't take of his high collared jacket. He abruptly stood up; chair making a clattering noise.

"Mr. Stilinski?"

Every single head was turned in his direction. Lesson interrupted. Every thing was slowly closing on him. Every single face was merging with the familiar face of Derek Hale. Fear was making him unstable, jumpy. Like a spooked animal Stiles ran out of the class before he could become a spectacle.

 

• Derek •

Derek traced the rim of his coffee cup with his thumb.

Though Derek was sitting with a straight spine and an air of nonchalance, unease pricked at his neck. He looked around the diner from his corner booth. Gaze flickering among every customer, every staff and every window. His shoulder tensed up when the bell above the entrance jiggled but it was only another coffee addict looking for a fix.

The plate full of breakfast was sitting on the table untouched and long gone cold. He didn't know why he had ordered food in the first place. Didn't really have the appetite to begin with but it felt somewhat normal to order breakfast in the morning. Maybe he didn't want to look odd or maybe he wanted to stop the waitress from coming to him in every few minutes asking if he needed anything else.

What Derek really wanted was a little bit of peace.

He felt eyes on him from every corner, judging him. Knowing what he did just by a quick glance.

Derek dipped his thumb inside the cup but the coffee wasn't hot enough to distract him. It had also gotten cold.

A sum of Beacon Hills population knew that he had been accused of murder once. Back then he was angry at his sister's death and wasn't really forthcoming with information. He could envision how two stupid teenagers would draw the stupid conclusion. Derek would've laughed about it if it still didn't make him angry; not like the fiery blaze as it used to as first but more like a small shimmering fire.

Derek knew he didn't always looked like the average gentry and he wasn't exactly a gentleman either. Try as hard as he might but there's always a predatory edge to him. His wolf hiding too close to the surface; ready to snarl and growl at the slightest provocation. That's why he never really blended in with his peers, never made many friends. Never really cared for humans all that much except he loved the humans in his pack. Fallen in love with humans twice or he thought he loved Kate. And he had also hurt them. Twice.

 

Derek looked around the diner again and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He hadn't quite shaken off the feeling that everything wasn't still right with him apart from that particular set of missing memory. And it's making him rightfully agitated.

More people had started to fill in. He'd been sitting here since 6 am watching as people came and went. Maybe it's time to finally leave.

The bell jingled and Derek's focus sharpened at the entrance. A group of teenagers came in; probably high schoolers. He thought he saw that Lydia girl among them. What if Stiles was with them? Weren't Stiles and Lydia were friends now? Derek's heart started to thwack. He could feel small beads of sweat sliding down his forehead. The cup between his hands seemed to crack from the force of his grip on it.

"More coffee, hon?"

Derek bit his tongue, started at the sudden voice so close to him and calmly looked up. The waitress was standing beside his table with a coffee pot, all smiles and charm. He didn't even notice when she had sneaked up on him.

Derek looked at her; young probably in her mid twenties, plum mouth with a bland smile and eyes full of desire. Desires for him.

But all Derek saw was a mouth sneering at him mockingly and eyes which were full with hatred.

And now she was slowly leaning towards him, biting her lips seductively, showing off her round breasts; like a predator. Didn't she realize that he was the predator here?

He wanted to snap at her. Wanted to rip the vile smirk from her face. Wanted to show her what he was capable of. Wanted her to get the hell away from him.

The cup broke, splashing brown liquid everywhere. Some of the liquid landed on his clothes and face. The waitress backed away and gaped at him. Derek scowled at her. Few heads were starting to turn in his direction.

"No thank you." He left enough money to cover everything. May be it would be better if he avoided public places from now on.

 

• Stiles •

Someone rang the doorbell tentatively. Stiles wished whoever it was, would go away eventually if he didn't answer it.

Stiles heaved a sigh from the sofa where he had planted his ass and refused to move since he got home. The humiliation of making a ass of himself in front of everyone at school still running through him. But the ringing got more insistent. He didn't know who it could be; wasn't expecting any guest.

Stiles dragged his feet and peeked through the peephole, weary and alert of any potential threats.

"Hey Scott. What are you doing here?" Stiles managed with pretended cheer. Searching for a reason of Scott's sudden visit.

"You left your bag at school. Here." Scott pointed at the said item and thrust his bag towards him.

"My bag?"

"Yeah. Danny gave it to me. Said you ran out of class without your things so he held it for you. But he didn't saw you all day so he gave it to me. Said you looked really sick. You do look really sick. Are you okay?"

Stiles leaned back when Scott invaded his personal space, subtlety trying to sniff him. Stiles wanted to slam the door in his face but that would be overly dramatic. He reached for his bag, face burning hotly at the new surge of humiliation.

"Thanks, man. And I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

Scott looked at him disbelievingly. Stiles could only imagine how he looked right now; sickly pale and thin. He still hadn't looked into a mirror.

"Then why are you acting like this? You totally freaked out today for no reason. You won't pick up your phone, have been missing school. You even lined your window with mountain ash!"

Scott ranted; worry making him twitchy. Stiles rubbed his forehead petulantly. Didn't he deserve a little slice of peace without any werewolf trying to sneak through his window for a little while?

"How do you know about that?" Stiles tightly asked, mood souring and a prickle of coldness ran over his spine, hoping that it was only Scott that came to lurk outside his window.

"Because I came to check on you when you didn't answer my texts! I am worried and you are not telling me anything. What's happening to you, Stiles?"

Wow. So many words coming his way. It felt like a role reversal. Usually it's him that did all the talking. Scott was looking expectantly at him for an explanation and Stiles was starting to feel a little guilty.

He wished it was Monday so that he could partly act like his normal self. He took a step inside, wanting to just run and hide in his room but he knew it would only lead to more probing query.

"I think a nervous breakdown?" He explained to Scott's dumbfounded self.

"What?"

"I think I'm having a nervous breakdown. All the supernatural crap finally catching up with me, you know. Beacon Hills was kinda quiet on the supernatural front for a while now and it's weirdly freaking me out. I am expecting monsters to jump out of every corner that's why I'm kinda jumpy. It will pass though? Eventually." Stiles haltingly elaborated, hoping that it would be enough to keep gullible Scott satisfied.

"Oh. Okay."

Stiles fiddled with the door knob while Scott shuffled hopefully on his porch. He wanted to be alone but Scott was making these hopeful puppy eyed expression.

"Do you wanna come in? Maybe hang out or something?" Stiles reluctantly offered.

"Are you sure?" Not really. But it didn't sound like a terrible plan either. Maybe doing something instead of doing nothing would keep him away from his thoughts.

"Come in already."

 

"You know you can tell me anything right?" Scott offered after one hour into COD.

Not this time though. "Yeah, I know." Stiles mumbled and nibbled at a pizza slice, distractedly watching as Scott's avatar lay dead on the screen.

He'd been side eyeing Stiles the whole evening, trying to be discreet but failing miserably. At one point Stiles had almost snapped at him to cut it out but at that moment the doorbell had rang announcing the pizza's arrival.

"This was fun. I gotta go though." Scott announced after eating almost the whole pizza himself and slowly got up to gather his things.

"Where? It's not that late. I thought you and Allison are still all broken up?"

"We are. I would ask you to go with me but you still look kinda pale. So … " Scott fidgeted with his phone then typed something.

"Ask me to go where?"

Stiles leaned back against the sofa, idly tracing the video game controller and frowned at Scott. Wondering where could Scott be going right now. It's not even 7. Maybe he could tag along. Playing mindless video game had taken his mind off of things; though he was certain Scott had let him win purposely cause he wasn't even paying attention to what button he pressed.

"To see Derek. I asked him to meet me. He said to be at his old house this evening."

Every sound, every movement ceased to exist in that moment. All blood drained away leaving him gasping pathetically on the couch. Stiles clutched his head with both hands; breath hitching loudly.

"What's wrong? Are you having another breakdown?" Scott hurried over him but Stiles harshly swatted him away.

"Why? Why would you want to see him?" Stiles almost screamed.

"I gotta ask him about some wolf stuff. Also about the witch problem but Derek said he took care of it." Yeah, he buried the body in Hale property.

Scott awkwardly hovered above him and Stiles sat up straight with a sudden jerk.

"Can't you just Google it."

"I tried that … but that led to some very weird sites. So I'm sticking with the authentic werewolf knowledge. It's really important." Scott whined like a spoiled brat like if he didn't solve his werewolfy issues it'll be the end of the world. Stiles was sure that it got something to do with Allison.

"Maybe I can do some research for you. You don't really have to go see Derek, do you?" Stiles desperately pleaded.

It'd been not even a week since the incident and Stiles wasn't really sure if Derek was completely sane and sound. He knew from his researches that it took almost a week for a spell to wore off. To top of it all, that was the last spell the witch had casted before dying. So forgive him for being a little paranoid.

"I thought we don't hate Derek anymore." Scott accused and Stiles got up to pace the room. Suddenly a wild energy was filling him and he couldn't sit still.

"We don't hate him." But he was kinda terrified of him nowadays. Even hearing the name 'Derek ' made him cold.

He opened his mouth to tell Scott as much as diplomatically possible why it's a bad idea to go see Derek alone in the middle of the woods. But when he opened his mouth the words got stuck in his throat.

And Scott was starting to look impatience. Stiles felt torn, stuck between protecting his friend and facing his abuser. Though he knew that Scott was more stronger and could probably take better care of himself, more than Stiles ever could. But he couldn't just throw his best friend to face the beast alone.

"Fine. Okay. I … I'll go with you."

 

Stiles hands clenched and unclenched on the stirring wheel. They had taken his jeep. Scott had planned to run on foot to come here earlier. But Stiles had graciously offered his car.

"You okay, dude?" Scott asked for the 5th time and he can't be blamed because the jeep had almost swivelled off the road two times and Stiles had nearly crashed against a tree at one point. If he wasn't such a skilled driver, Stiles was sure they'd be dead by now.

"Fine." Stiles gritted his teeth. He can't decide if he should slow down or speed up.

Scott had gotten some aggressive scratching on his person from Stiles when he tried to touch the stirring wheel.

He wanted to stop the car and run the other way. But there's a masochistic part in him that wanted to see Derek. Wanted to see if there's any kind of remorse in Derek's face, any kind of guilt or it's just him that's suffering.

Scott half shouted to stop the car and clutched at the seat when it seemed Stiles gonna hit the Camaro. But the Jeep stopped 2 inches away from hitting the Camaro's back bumper.

Stiles panted through his mouth like he had ran a long race. Scott jumped out of the car as soon as they stopped and gaped at Stiles nervously while Stiles looked ahead.

 

There. Standing on the brunt and broken porch was Derek Hale. Face half shadowed in the darkness and half illuminated from the Jeep's front lights, silent and gloomy. Muscles bulging up in a show of his strength, eyes red and unblinking upon him. Stiles swallowed noisily. The seat squeaked when he shifted and Stiles swore because it might draw Derek's attention to him further.

He was finally realizing that it may had been not the best idea to come here. He also should've thought about a better excuse to stop Scott from coming here. Maybe even faked a heart attack.

His legs had been shaking since he entered the Hale property. Hysteria was bubbling up inside. When Stiles feet landed on the ground he almost flopped down.

Stiles glared fiercely at Scott when he made an aborted motion towards him through the haziness of fear that's building inside him brick by brick. Stiles eyes skittered against Derek chest at a lightening speed. His inside felt liquefied. His heart was already in his throat. Stiles felt like he's melting on the ground. Nothingness surrounded him from each sides. Then there was nothing.

Finally he passed out like he was hoping for all along.

 

• Derek •

At first he thought that his ears were playing tricks on him but the crabby sound of Stiles Jeep was unmistakable.

Early this day Scott had texted him asking, more like begged to see him about some inane problem.

Derek was avoiding everyone now. But Scott was very insistent so he had reluctantly agreed to see him. What he did not expect was to hear the Jeep's engine and the thumping of twin heartbeats. One was normal and one was beating like a drum and Derek felt his heart also had started to beat like one too.

His eyes had started to flash between red and hazel. Derek tried uselessly to control it. The sound of Stiles's car was getting louder by the second. He had unconsciously started to pace on the broken floor.

Derek stumbled back when he stepped on a charred black strain on the floor which suspiciously looked human shaped. He's sure the strain was one of his dead family members. Memories of childhood flurried before him vividly. He blinked in the darkness, confused and angry.

Through the red hue of his vision Derek hesitantly made his way outside and waited.

Half broken words floated in his ear. Derek winced when it seemed that the Jeep was gonna collide with his car but it stopped in time. And all his senses focused on the figure sitting in the car.

Derek couldn't seem to look away, couldn't help when his eyes tracked every movement that Stiles made.

Stiles looked sick. Thin, dehydrated, hunched in himself and small. Derek stomach rolled violently. Stiles wobbled in place and Derek's palm itched to steady him. He wanted to shout apologies, say sorry a million times but what he really wanted was to change the past.

As if his strings cut off Stiles hit the ground suddenly and Derek's legs moved without his permission. Scott's pleadings for Stiles to wake up was a faint sound in his ears.

Derek stared at Stiles's unconscious broken body, the smell of barely healed wounds assaulted his nose. His heart said he should help but his mind said he shouldn't touch.

'You did this.' a voice taunted, vicious and cold.

-*-


	3. Heat

 

• Stiles •

Stiles vaguely noticed the familiar phenyl - y smell that only a hospital could possess. His head was a little fuzzy. But Stiles felt warm and relaxed. Someone was softly touching his hand.

Stiles remembered when he was five that was the very first time that he visited a hospital. It was a Saturday when he ate something that he shouldn't have while playing in their backyard. A shiny little red fruit that he couldn't resist but put in his mouth. It tasted strange but he could get used to it, his childish brain rationalized, just like his dad drank the foul tasting brown liquid every day in spite of it being really... foul.

But in the end the red shiny fruit had poisoned his insides. His mom had been frantic when he had collapsed in the living room 15 minutes later.

At that time Stiles little foggy brain had thought his hospital visit as something adventurous. But after impatiently tolerating the doctor's poking and probing his adventure turned into misery. And four years later it became a habit when his mom fell sick.

Stiles could still feel his mother's phantom touch and her soft voice soothing him.

"Mom?"

"No It's me, son... Dad…" Someone croaked beside him.

Stiles hummed noncommittally. He was felling happy for no reason and a small blessed smile was blooming on his face.

"Stiles? Can you hear me son?"

His fathers worried voice floated in his ear. Stiles racked his brain for something he mightve done to cause his dads latest concern and his happy feeling vanished in a heartbeat.

Everything was coming into focus. Stiles slowly remembered the hazy memory of seeing Derek Hale. His eyes nervously darted around the room before settling on his father's worn out face.

"What happened? Why am I… here?" Stiles felt suddenly nervous. The hospital, his Dad had started to make a horrible kind of sense.

"Do you remember what happened?" His dad asked in a soft voice and Stiles swallowed around his dry throat.

"… I dont know. What happened?" Stiles said in a small voice looking at the dull white ceiling. It wasn't as interesting like the ceiling in his room with its mysterious cracks and weird shapes and wished Derek should've killed him that day to spare him this constant humiliation and fear.

In a halting choked voice his father begun and stiles stomach twisted with unease. "Scott brought you here. You collapsed and won't wake up..."

The grip around his hand tightened like the air around his heart "The doctor said…Stiles? The doctor said.…sexual assault …you… why didn't you tell me..?"

And Stiles blocked every noise after that.

\--

"How are you feeling, Stiles?" The voice startled him unexpectedly.

"Fine, I guess." Stiles mumbled.

"Really?" His dad softly asked from his doorway.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Stiles avoided eye contact and scowled down at his feet.

"You don't have to go to school if you don't want to. Take your time." Stiles's dad placidly suggested.

His dad watched silently as Stiles got ready for school. Stiles looked from the corner of his eyes as his dad opened his mouth and closed it again and swallowed, no doubt about to ask if he's fine, again.

Stiles looked at the calendar. It was another Tuesday. One week had gone by from that dreaded incident. Stiles didn't know which was better, his dad finding out what happened to him and treating him like glass or him suffering alone in silence.

"I'm fine."

Stiles snapped and stopmed past his dad. He was starting his Jeep in no time before anyone can stop him and watched his dad's worried face vanish gradually from his rareview mirror.

It's like everyone was waiting for something. Waiting for him to break. But he won't let one incident to change him. Already the perspective of his persona in his loved one's eyes had changed drastically. He can see the pity and it burned him inside. He refused to sit around in the house and wallow in self-pity any longer.

 

School was as hellish as he had imagined. Stiles shuffled to his locker without looking at anyone but he can feel the curious gazes on his back.

He felt strangely nervous and panicked throughout the day.

It had taken half an hour to just get out of his car today. His stubbornness to move on was the only thing that helped him to step outside and face the world.

Every shadow, every movement and every sound was coming to him as ten fold louder. For a moment he seriously worried that may be he had actually turned into a werewolf.

Stiles looked at Scott at his next desk, who was acting unusually quiet and subdued. Not a single mention of Allison or anything else. He had caught Scott nervously glancing at him in every few minutes.

Stiles thought for a moment that Scott knew what happened to him, that would explain his strange behaviour. But he hadn't heard a single peep from Scott the whole week and his dad said he hadn't told anyone anything. Except Melisa would know and tell Scott?

Stiles caught Scott's looking at him again and sighed in irritation. No. Scott didn't know anything or else he had to deal with more pitying looks and mortification. Also when Scott had visited him at the hospital he acted normal.

And Stiles hadn't told anyone who this did to him including his dad or the psychiatrist that the hospital had forced him to see. It was too dark to clearly see his attacker, he said. He didn't recognise anyone.

Stiles chalked up Scott's strange behaviour to something supernatural and forced his ear to listen to the droning lecture.

__

Soon everything fell into a sort of routine.

He woke up every morning, had breakfast, went to school which didn't make him as terrified as before, come home, did homework, refused every invitation of hanging out, avoided most of the people and spent his free time reading about anything and everything. Reading kept his mind occupied and blank. He hadn't read this much in his entire life.

Surfing the net turned out to be the worst idea ever. Because he hadn't have the slightest idea that a simple picture of could make him come apart.

Stiles tried to watch meaningless tv to pass the time but one episode of Criminal Minds had him in hysteric and trembling. Stiles was avoiding the TV too.

His dad had eventually started to act as normal as before and Stiles was trying to act normal too, trying not to worry his dad anymore. And Scott had finally stopped shadowing him everywhere.

Everything and everyone slowly ..slowly getting to normal around him. Stiles decided his decision not to tell anyone about who was the culprit was the right one.

But it was the sleep that's bothering him the most.

 

● Derek ●

Sleep had eluded him from a long time ago. Derek didn't even remember when the last time he slept peacefully and without any concern.

His muscles ached like nothing before he experienced. It didn't even hurt this much when hunters stabbed or shot him. This was a new kind of pain.

Pins and needles stabbed his eyes but he didn't seem to close them for more then 5 minutes. His head his taking him in two different direction at once, suddenly empty and suddenly filled with bricks and cotton.

Derek's hand trembled on the steering wheel, the road going out of focus second by second. His stomach clenched with nausea, he thought he should stop and lay down maybe in the middle of the road to get out of this misery...

The sound of his head hitting the dash board in the quiet road was sudden and loud. The momentary blackness that engulfed him was a necessary welcome.

Light pierced thorough his eyelids and the thud thud thud thud slowly registered as someone knocking on his car window.

Faint voices reached his ear from far away. Fading in and out. His head felt too heavy to lift just then.

Derek vaguely concluded he might have hit something or…someone.

That seemed to shake him out a little. Derek sat up gingerly and had a good look at whoever still shining what seemed to be a torch at his face.

"…en..th..do..r….M..Ha..e…."

"…ello… r..u… ok.." Someone was knocking at his window very insistently. And it's doing his head in. Very slowly and deliberately Derek lifted his head…

His irritated growl cut half way through his throat when his bleary eyes met with none other than the Seriff himself.

Derek felt the blood drain out his face so fast leaving him light headed and nauseated.

"Mr. Hale do you think you can open the door hmm?"

Derek croaked something unintelligible. Guilt gnawing at him painfully, he thought he might puke. With shaky hands he opened the door.

Derek wobbled, unsteady on his feet. He flinched away when the Sheriff tried to put his hand on him and stumbled backwards.

In the midst of haze and panic Derek found a sort of calm overtake him.

Derek blinked at the other two figures that he totally missed until now. So Sheriff Stilinski was not alone, he came with reinforcement like he should.

So Stiles had finally listen to him and made the right choice. Derek was dangerous, he always knew it, Stiles knew it and now everyone would know it. He should be put down like the rabid dog that he was.

Derek met the Sheriff's eye head on but he could hardly maintain eye contact. He guilty looked at the mostly empty road and silent woods around them. No one was here and no one will witness anything.

"Ok I'm ready. You can kill me."

He didn't understand why the Sheriff was looking mildly alarmed. Wasn't this why they were here? To right the wrong he had committed.

"Excuse me?"

"I won't run. Just just make this quick and finish it."

"Okay…" The Sheriff said slowly and looked between the two deputies for some kind of explanation "I think we are under some kind of misunderstanding here."

Derek watched as Sheriff Stilinski slowly lifted his hand from where it's been resting lightly on his gun and started to approach him like a spooked animal.

"You are here to kill me. I'm complying." Derek blankly stated and stumbled a few step backwards.

"… Mr. Hale? Derek? Let me ask you something…are you on something? Some kind of drugs?" The Sheriff slowly and deliberately asked as not to confuse him.

"No." Derek jerked his head to the side.

"Alright. Do you realize you hit a police car just now?"

"No...?" Derek itched his beard which had grown quite a bit, feeling all kinds of jittery and out of sorts. Wondering why in the world the Sheriff was making small talks instead of killing him. It's not like anyone would miss him if his gone. He deserved to die anyway.

"It's a good thing you weren't going very fast. And nobody got seriously hurt. Except you. You don't look so good. Want me to call a medic?"

"No...I'm fine." The thought of anyone touching him was unbearable, doctor or not. And he's fine anyway. No blood or anything. Just bumped his head on the dashboard because he forgot to put on his seatbelt like an idiot. And hit a car from behind. And a police car at that.

"Uh huh... you don't look it. What are you doing out this late anyway?" Sheriff Stilinski looked at his watch, from the darkness of the night Derek could predict it was between 1 and 2 in the morning.

Derek hunched in on himself when the Sheriff eyed him questioningly.

"I had some work." Derek said warily looking back and forth between the two deputies who were eyeing him with distrust and the Sheriff who was surveying the damage.

Which was a massive lie. He was driving aimlessly for two hours. He thought may be he did have some errands to run but he forgot what exactly.

"Oh?" Suddenly the Sheriff nodded knowingly like he finally understood something.

Derek had no idea what's going on or what's gonna happen to him at this point. Nor he particularly care anymore. His headache was coming back with a vengeance.

He winced when the Sheriff cleared his throat loudly. After silently communicating with his deputies he came to a conclusion.

"Okay..as nobody seriously got hurt and you weren't speeding I am going to let you go this time. But next time be careful or someone gonna get hurt... Your car okay to go or you need a lift."

"So you are not going to kill me?" Derek mumbled confused and a little disappointed.

"No..." The Sheriff was looking a little concerned right now. Derek gulped down the huge wave of guilt.

"I don't know what's going on with you but no one's killing anyone. Not over something like a little bump in the car. You sure don't want anyone to take a look at you?" The Sheriff jokingly said.

"It's fine. I'm fine." Derek licked his dry lips unable to meet the Sheriff's eyes when he tried to make eye contact again.

Sheriff Stilinski observed him for a long minutes while Derek fidgeted like a homeless crack head.

"Okay then. Don't get into trouble....and get some sleep." With that said the Sheriff patted his shoulder and ordered his deputies in the car.

Derek watched dumbfounded as the police car sped away leaving him alone and very much alive.

 

● Stiles ●

No matter what Stiles felt about the subject but as long as there will be a Beacon Hills there will be trouble.

Stiles side eyed his phone, seriously contemplating if he should look at it or not.

Stiles sighed at the fact that his curious nature was still intact even though some things had inevitably inverted in his life.

It's a group message about an impromptu pack meeting. At Derek's loft.

Like hell he's stepping a foot in there any time soon. The pack can resolve their issues without him anyway. It's not like he was very welcome in their pack. He's just a squishy human. And he didn't feel like going among a bunch of were people. Stiles very well knew what they were capable of.

Stiles ignored it.

 

Stiles shivered when when a gust of wind caressed him and looked up from the book of he's been lost into.

He shivered again when he saw his windows were open all the way. He distinctly remembered closing them. He didn't like to keep his windows open after dark now a days. Stiles slanted a glance at the cloak. And it's way past midnight.

Stiles shakily ran his fingers through his hair. Tried not to be agitated and found some logical explanations. His dad was not gonna be home for at least 4 more hours.

Stiles slowly reached the window. His bedside lamp was on, otherwise the whole house was mostly dark. He tried to listen for any noise coming from the house.

He checked the line of mountain ash which seemed intact and unbroken. He sighed in relief.

Stiles started to close the window while berating himself for his paranoia and over active imagination.

So imagine his surprise when his heart beat skyrocketed when he spotted something human shaped slowly dissolved in the shadows from his the edge of his house.

Stiles stumbled backwards, another gust of wind came inside, he didn't know how the air was this cold in this time of the year but it's making him shiver uneasily.

His breath hitched when the windows banged together. He could feel the beginning a panic attack which was very bad right now because the window were fucking open and anything could come inside if he didn't close them right fucking now!

He didn't think he trust the ability of the mountain ash that much.

Stiles bend down and grabbed his knees, sucking in air and trying to think logically. He worked under pressure the best after all.

All the doors were locked. There was no thing inside the house,he had already checked all the rooms after coming from school. And his dad gonna be home in a few hours. And there's also a gun in his dad's bedside drawer. So nothing to worry about.

It was probably nothing. His paranoid brain making shadows move and he was seeing things in empty places. He could always call the station and beg his dad to come home. Anyone else was out of the question. He didn't need to see any pity or disgust on his friend's faces. What's done was done. No coming back from the past.

He had to live with this thing now for the rest of his life. But he didn't want anyone else to see him differently.

God! How he hated being alone.

 

Stiles resolutely marched to the window. He didn't know if it's his mind playing tricks on him again or may be he had completely lost it because Stiles can make out what seemed to be The Camaro idling on the road. The car was easily overlooked because it was very strategically place inside a patch of darkness.

Stiles felt himself go pale. What the actual fuck was this shit?

Stiles closed the window. He started to hyperventilate at the sheer confusion and panic.

Derek's fucking car was here. Why? Why it was even here? What's the purpose? Just why..?

He felt himself go paler when the sudden realization hit him that if Derek's car was here then Derek was here too.

Stiles chocked back the pitiful sobs coming out of his mouth.

He stuffed a hand in his mouth and sat down slowly, trying not to make any noise or sudden movement, trying not to alert the werewolf outside that somebody's even in here. God knows what's their hearing range is.

 

Stiles tip toed at the master bedroom. When the pistol was in his fist he felt a layer of calm settled over him. He knew an ordinary gun was no match for an Alpha werewolf, but it was something.

He lightly made his way downstairs and peeked through the window beside the front door.

The car was still idling there ominously but but Stiles couldn't see her owner and that ... that made him really nervous.

Stiles tried to look inside the car but it was dark and the car was not over two houses down, also he didn't had any super vision.

It heart pounded every minute as nothing seemed to happen. He waited with baited breath. Hands getting sweaty where his clutching the gun with all his might.

Stiles jumped when the car started suddenly and crawled away at a very lazy pace 20 minutes later.

Stiles rubbed at his sweaty face and kept an eye on the car as it slowly disappeared from his vision.

He felt like his strings cut out like a puppet doll. All the adrenaline leaving him making his legs weak and miserable.

Stiles blinked away frustrated tears. What was that? Was Derek playing some kind of twisted game with him? He thought they had come to the same unspoken understanding of not seeing each other again. Unless some saving the world or life or death situation threw them together again.

But it didn't feel like an world ending life or death situation. It looked more like Derek had deliberately seek him out. Purpose unknown. Who knew what went in that head of his.

He didn't understand any of this. But one thing Stiles knew if this kept on either he's gonna go gradually insane or he'd shot Derek with a magic bullet. There's so much stress a person can take.

 

● Derek ●

Looking at his broken mirror which he still hadn't fixed, Derek thought may be he shouldn't ignore this any longer.

He was getting unsure if the spell was really gone. A small hint of doubt had started to flourish lazily in his mind.

In the quiet hours of dawn, when everything is quiet and sleepy, he got this peculiar urge to run through the woods, scale the window and just watch the person he promised himself to stay far … far away from.

Sometimes he saw dark tendrils swirling on his arms, on his belly. Dancing like snakes and whenever he tried to looked closer there's nothing.It's like he's imagining it.

Derek looked at his phone. It read 2 in the morning and he couldn't gather a wink of sleep. There was some massages and 1 lone missed call, probably from Cora. It was a good thing she didn't live with him anymore. He didn't imagine what would've happen then.

There was a bone deep ache that dragging him down each day. It was getting harder and harder to go on each day with out sleep. And no matter how much he eat, he's always hungry.

The air inside the loft was getting suffocating . Derek left when the wall seem to shrink in on themselves and left in a hurry to run through the woods.

 

Derek felt his nails dig into the ground, his subconscious trying to anchor him unconsciously and he was already half way shifted and ready to move. He counted 100 backwards and on 33 a semblance of control was reached.

Maybe he should talk to someone. This didn't feel normal. It's didn't feel like any PTSD or trauma. He had plenty of experience with those.

He still didn't remember anything clearly and trying to reach that black spot in his memory had him reeling with a pounding migraine and phantom ants crawling on his body.

Derek rubbed his head vigorously. A sliver of creamy flesh flashed before his eyes. Derek felt his teeth lengthen as he licked his lips. Hungry for something unattainable.

Sometimes death is not the end. Sometimes some magic left lingering affects. May be it's one of those time.

When he buried that bastard's body he thought that was the end of it. They should've…no he should've consulted someone and made sure every dark twisted magic was gone from his body. That he won't turn into a monster again.

He took one last look at the window when the light turned off. Stiles's sleepy sweet scent reached his nose and a low burning arousal hit him making him half hard, he sighed blissfully.

With decision made he melted in the shadows.It was time to see the vet.

 

*-*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. Ty.


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